


you are the only exception.

by thatsaninfraction



Category: The Good Cop (TV)
Genre: Cunnilingus, Desk Sex, F/M, Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Sex at work, Vaginal Sex, dont loon at me, its also fluffy so, ok some plot, these tags are gross and im so sorry, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-29 01:09:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18768106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatsaninfraction/pseuds/thatsaninfraction
Summary: Cora is a tease, TJ commits an infraction.alternatively titled: oh my god no what did i do to them i’m so sorry





	you are the only exception.

**Author's Note:**

> this is unbeta’d but edited; i am so sorry.  
> feedback is appreciated!

Getting his own office is probably the best thing that has ever happened to TJ in his work life. The bullpen is fine, he supposes, but the control he has over his own space is unparalleled. Plus, he has all the silence he could ask for if he closed his door, and he’s totally free from distractions.

 

Or, at least, he  _ would,  _ if Cora Vasquez wasn’t currently on her knees under his desk, pawing absentmindedly at something she couldn’t have. 

 

He’s trying to ignore her, he really is, but the more she sits, one elbow rested on his chair and her head in her hand, gaze focused entirely on just below her belt, the more the letters on the page he’s looking at meld into one and become completely unreadable. It doesn’t help that she’s sat herself down right where he  _ has  _ to keep his legs apart if he doesn’t want to risk accidentally kicking her and it’s killing him. She’s killing him.

 

He swallows hard, looking up to the ceiling in hopes that perhaps, there’s some magically appearing advice on the tiles to help him resist what he very much would like to let her do, thank you very much. 

TJ makes the mistake of looking down, and she’s there still, smirking at him, eyes wide and doe-y like she’s not making him grip the desk so hard his knuckles are turning white.

Tears sting his eyes as something in him wins over, and he pushes back in his chair and stands up, exiting the room without a word. 

 

He’s still shaking in the break room when he hears footsteps and a comforting hand on his shoulder, and Cora leans over to rest her chin on the shoulder her hand isn’t occupying, the other arm gently reaching around his waist. TJ can’t bring himself to look at her, face hot with shame and his words catching in his throat. He’s still not sure he won’t cry if he tries to speak, so he doesn’t.

 

“Sorry.” She says at last, kissing his cheek. He nods, still staring forward, focused so hard on a hanging cat poster that he could swear it’s committed to memory by now. 

 

She’s still close enough that he can feel the smirk on her lips against his neck and he knows some quip is coming, but he’s too tired to distract her from it right now. 

“I should’ve known you’d get spooked, being a virgin and all.” Cora smiles, the tease slipping out of her mouth like too-sweet honey and getting caught in his chest. 

 

Though, he has to hand it to her, it works. All of his anxiety and shame washes away to make room for his indignant embarrassment, immediately insisting the contrary. 

“I’m not-! Cora, we’ve-!” He stops in his tracks, too frustrated to finish, any coherent thought falling apart into an unhappy  _ gah  _ sound. Cora smiles, happy to have him back in the room, and he can’t help but smile a little too as he watches her go back to her desk. 

 

He makes coffee, observing her through the glass with a loving gaze and decides he’s gonna get her back  _ so hard  _ as soon as the opportunity arises.

 

* * *

 

It’s a combination of good fortune and coincidence that leads Delghetty into the ACHS bullpen just before six, a new case in her hand. Of the three detectives working in the small department, only two would be willing to stay after that all-important eighteenth hour, so he summons Cora into his office to go over the file with him before Burl and the other officers leave.

 

She pulls up a chair, sliding into it with a casual ease that makes his heart skip, one leg crossing over the other to show off her new boots. She leans back in the chair, one arm slung over the back, and TJ wonders, not for the first time, even after almost three years doing their little dance together, why someone so effortlessly unique is his. 

 

Fighting back the butterflies dancing around in his rib cage, he hands her the details of their latest exploit, a jolt of affection hitting him when their hands brush. He ponders, absentmindedly, if this is how his dad felt any time his mom was in the room. From the way they used to look at each other, he suspects it was. 

 

“Poor kid.” She murmurs at last, eyes leaving the page once she’s done, an echo of sympathy in her voice. Their latest vic was barely eighteen, sexually assaulted in her own home and then stabbed enough times to take down an entire army. It was a wonder there was enough left unmarred to ID her. He nods in agreement. 

 

“Best thing we can do for her now is to find who did it.” TJ offers, taking back the binder and getting up from his chair to walk to the whiteboard out in the bullpen. “Come on, better get a head start. I’d like to have something to give Delghetty tomorrow.” He speaks with authority, despite the fact that they both know each other extremely intimately, down to the fact that the first time TJ woke up with Cora in his bed he cried (the reasoning for which being  _ “I’m just…  _ **_so_ ** _ happy.” _ ).

He is, after all, still her boss. 

 

* * *

 

Cora stands beside him, the whiteboard still torturously white, three hours later. The best they’ve got is that she - she being Gloria Whitehouse, their victim - knew the guy because there wasn’t any sign of a break in or a struggle at the door. It’s laughably thin, and TJ bites back a growl as he starts to pace.

 

His girlfriend ( _ girlfriend _ \-  _ wow _ ) leans against a desk, watching him pitter patter about as his mind works at a mile a minute to find literally anything that could bring them closer to a solution. “Most cases don’t get solved in a night, Caruso.” She supplies, an obvious but clearly needed reminder. He looks at her, tired eyes and all, grateful for her help.

It’s a nice moment, as short lived as it is when her impish grin comes back in full force and she walks, no, glides, over to him, a hand resting on his chest and her face dangerously close. “You know, nobody’s around and you seem mighty stressed. I could, uh, help with that.” Cora is terrible. She’s awful. She’s an anarchist and a heathen and she’s absolutely going to Hell and maybe he is too because instead of saying  _ no, Cora, that’s an infraction,  _ TJ says nothing and kisses her. 

 

He promises himself he’s not gonna let it go all the way, that he’s gonna tease her and then leave just like…. well, actually, even then he was the one to leave, but it’s still the same result so who cares? 

She whines against his ear as he kisses her neck, nipping gently, hands wandering wherever they please. 

 

Even in a state of mounting arousal, TJ is affectionate, and his hands settle on gently rubbing a thumb along her side, the other stroking her hair as he moves back and forth between lapping at her neck and supplying her with all the sweet and non-threatening TJ-exclusive kisses she could ask for. He stops only to rub his nose against hers, sure she’s sufficiently duped into believing things are going further. This - this is what she gets for earlier. 

 

But then she pulls him back in and moans something about wanting his head between her legs right here on Burl’s desk and something about it is so absurdly wrong that he’s unbuttoning her jeans and getting on his knees before he even realised what he’s doing. She shimmies out of her jeans, pulling off her boots to get one leg out and settles on the old man’s desk, right in front of where TJ is now kneeling, pliant and subservient on the floor. It’s  _ amazing _ what she can make him do. 

 

He almost laughs when he realises he’s not as surprised as he should be to find out her underwear is either already discarded or wasn’t on at all, but he opts instead to put his hands on her thighs and keep her legs spread enough that he can work his way in between them.

 

Cora makes an ungodly noise when his tongue makes contact, and his mind is split into two parts: the part that’s screaming  _ oh, God yes _ and the part that is now terrified that there’s still someone around who heard, is now going to come in, and is going to cost the both of them their jobs. He pauses, still pressed firmly into her, as he makes sure the latter won’t happen, before he actually gets to work.

 

He’s pretty sure he enjoys this as much as she does, his tongue working furiously to get those absolutely wonderful sounds out of Cora, relishing in the way her calves tighten around his neck every time he does something she likes, moaning into her himself every time something she does, says or is is particularly hot. Which, in fairness, is everything she does, says and is all of the time.

 

In all the time they’ve been together, he’s gotten to know Cora very well, and he prides himself on knowing exactly where to lick, nip at and suck on to get her howling in his bed (before being shushed very thoroughly in case his father came home from the bar early and can hear her). Not to say he wasn’t pretty good at it before. Every ex he’d had since he was eighteen he’d  _ insisted _ . He likes being able to use his mouth to make someone happy for once. He likes making girls feel good. He likes the way the praise makes his eyes hurt like he’s going to cry from some attention. He…. God, he really likes doing this. 

 

The first time they’d been together, curled up and exhausted, sheets, blankets and pillows arranged into a nest for them both to share, Cora ran her fingers through his chest hair, head firmly slotted in under his chin, one of his hands looping to hold hers, the other running comfortingly up and down her side. 

“Hey TJ?” She’d asked, softly in the silence of the darkness that filled the room.

“Mm?” 

“You eat pussy like it’s a fucking Olympic sport.”

He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

 

He can tell she’s close from how tightly she’s holding him, from how hard her fingers pull at his hair. Her breathing is strained, throaty whimpers and whines replacing the loud, unashamed moans he’d been rewarded with before. TJ focuses in on her clit, putting his very extensive knowledge of the proper use of straws to a new purpose, sending Cora barrelling, crying out, over the edge.

 

As she comes down from the high, her fingers go from pulling to stroking at his hair while he leans his cheek against her thigh and catches his breath. He kisses her thigh softly before he shakily turns and hoists himself up into Burl’s chair in order to come down from the excitement himself. In his mid thirties, he’s not getting any younger, you know.

 

He turns the chair to face the whiteboard, mind still hazy, detective brain switched back on. Cora makes a noise beside him and when he looks back at her, she’s got a raised eyebrow and a strange smile on her face. “What about you?” She asks, nodding down at the painfully obvious erection he’s sporting as he tries, pitiful, to get back to his job. 

“It’s not- I don’t- we have a job to do.” He supplies, excuses thin because actually, if they’re going to keep having sex in the squad room, he’d like to get back between her thighs and have another go. 

 

“New objective.” Cora says, sliding off the desk with a gross, wet sound that he can’t find the heart in him to be squicked out by. She leans down, unbuttoning his pants enough to pull enough of his boxers down to get his dick out in the cool we-can’t-afford-to-heat-a-building-overnight air and he hisses at the change in temperature. Biting his lip, TJ watches Cora straddle him, still sticky and pressing right into him now. 

“Yeah? What’s that?” He asks, very slowly because his brain is saying  _ buck your hips up into her and get this show on the road _ but the TJ Caruso in him is saying  _ please don’t do that, you’re better than that, that’s just pushy. _

“Getting you off.” She says and he groans, unable to break eye contact with her even if he wanted to.

 

One of the many, many good things about Cora is her athleticism, and TJ is admiring it now, the way her toned thighs lift her weight with ease, a delicate hand reaching underneath herself to position him properly before she slams down onto him, making him yelp. 

His knee jerk reaction is to grab her hips as hard as he can without worry of hurting her and TJ nods his consent for her to continue.

 

The pace she sets is moderate, no teasing in mind here, lifting herself up and down and holding his chin up so he’ll look at her as she goes. She’s so beautiful, so smart and independent and wonderful and she’s been the best thing to ever happen to him in his entire life and he knew it then, three years ago when they met, but he  _ really _ knows now that he wants to marry Cora Vasquez with the entirety of his soul. 

 

She changes her angle then so he can bury his face in her chest, hands propping her up on his shoulders and his wrapped around her waist, holding her close as she speeds up, and he lets a tear or two slip past his eyelids. His moans are muffled by her burgundy shirt (he really likes this shirt, he likes it so much, does she know that?) and the slight slope of her breast that he’s now mushed his face into, her curses and gasps out in the open for anyone to hear, hair brushing against his back and, though it’s a feeling on the back burner right now because his cock has all of his mind’s attention, he notices that it tickles a little. 

 

She tenses around him after a few more frantic bounces and while she doesn’t stop she falters, lost in her orgasm so he grabs her hips and takes it upon himself to listen to his brain for once and fuck her through it, hips slamming upwards a few times as he follows her, tumbling over the edge inside of her with a sob.

 

She pulls herself off him, sticky, damp, gross and exhausted and she curls up over his lap. TJ pulls her hair from out in front of her face and kisses her softly, stroking her soft cheek with his thumb. She laughs a little, then, adjusting her position and grabbing a tissue from Loomis’ desk. 

He tilts his head, questioning.

 

“We should’ve used a condom, Caruso. I could get pregnant you know. They did remember to teach you that in all your fancy schools, right?” Cora teases, tapping his nose with a finger. He huffs, annoyed for a moment before an earnest adoration takes over and he smiles, pressing his forehead against hers. He feels her shift, wiping away… uh,  _ residue,  _ and he closes his eyes for a second to ignore it.

“Would that be such a bad thing?” He asks. Cora stops a moment, head lifting up so she can get a good look st him, like she’s sizing him up as not just a potential mate but as the sire of her offspring and his heart sinks because he knows he isn’t much in any department, let alone being mating material. Her silence is sickening, making the air thick and his eyes hot with tears. His heart begins to pound as he begins to overthink in double time, wondering if actually their whole relationship had been a sham and she’s just been trying to catch him asking her to bear his children so she can send it to HR and get him fired. Is she wearing a wire? She must be wearing a wire-

“No. No, I don’t suppose it would.” She says at last, closing her eyes and breathing against his neck. Okay, that’s good. That’s cool. That’s good and cool.

 

TJ blinks a couple of times, deciding that if he took that risk, he might as well take this one too. 

 

“Marry me.”

 

Cora sits up again, incredulous, a half laugh tumbling out of her as she tries to figure out TJ Caruso certainly not for the first time and apparently not for the last. 

“What?”

 

“I- I mean it.” He says, lifting her up off of him and tucking himself back into his trousers, a pang of embarrassment coursing through him as he buttons them back up, heading into his office. “Wait there. Put your pants on. I don’t know. Just - I’ll be five minutes.” He says, opening a drawer and rooting around in it. 

 

When he gets back, she’s zipping her boots back up and he’s holding a box and then things become a bit blurry as he explains that he bought this about four months ago and he’s just been waiting for a good time, and this is the worst time but there’s not a single woman in the world he’d commit an infraction for except, it seems, Cora Vasquez and then before he knows it he’s down on one knee and she’s crying and he’s crying and her hand has something new on it and he’s hugging her so close, and he knows he’s never, ever letting go. 

 

When they do break apart, he takes a breath, scrunching his nose, looking breathlessly at his girlfriend- no,  _ fiancée,  _ and says: “You know, you swore quite a lot during all that. That’s at  _ least _ twenty dollars for the swear jar.”

 

She doesn’t say anything, but he can feel it in the air, because she’s his soulmate and that’s what soulmates do.

 

_ If I don’t kill you before we make it to the wedding, it’ll be a miracle. _

 

He smirks, adjusting his tie and he sends _I love you too, Cora Vasquez_ right back at her.

**Author's Note:**

> hit me up @thatsaninfraction on tumblr if you wanna talk about tj


End file.
